Harlow grinned, wide and crooked, liking that Mort didn't ask any questions. Most folks would have been grilling him by then, wanting to know what he had been up to and why he had changed. Mort just accepted it as a matter of course and got on with the show. When it came to spending time around Harlow, that sort of laid back attitude would benefit Mort in the long run.
"Neither are you," Harlow said, which was a compliment as far as he was concerned. He ached his brow as he watched Mort shake out another cigarette, and he had nearly opened his mouth to ask for one when the boy offered on his own. Harlow took it gladly, placing it between his lips and pulling out a Zippo carved with Baphomet, lighting it. He offered the flame out to Mort so he could light his own, cupping his hand over it and leaning close.
"Nah, I don't live there," Harlow shrugged, speaking around the cigarette between his lips. "Just crash sometimes. I get as far as the bar, generally. Bass drops, drink too much, wake up under a table. I stay at MSG."